


Strange How We Change

by escribo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Sirius' turn to comfort Remus but everyone knows he'll be the one to do it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange How We Change

**Author's Note:**

> written for 2010 schmoop bingo (prompt: nuzzling)

"Where's Remus?" Sirius set down the paper sacks filled with curries and naan, his weekly turn at dinner done, and smacked hands when James and Peter started grabbing for the food. He looked around the room, half-expecting Remus to just appear though he didn't abuse apparition quite as often as the rest of them, but when he didn't show up, Sirius leaned a bit over the table, his hands curling over the tops of the bags. "Remus," he said again to James' shrug.

"Roof," Peter said, his eyes on his dinner.

Satisfied if not happy, Sirius let Peter draw the bag closer to himself and dig out the steaming, white cardboard containers, the warm and spicy smell filling the kitchen. "What's he doing up there?"

"What does he ever do up there but sulk?" Peter's focus was firmly on his dinner now and he didn't see Sirius scowl in his direction as Sirius dropped into the chair across from him.

"I think it was a bad day," James said, trying to diffuse another fight between Sirius and Peter and Sirius twisted his lips in acknowledgment. He knew it was becoming something of a habit for James, even more so than when they were in school, done often enough lately that Sirius wondered if James even noticed he was doing it. 

"When is it not a bad day for him?" Peter had the plates handed ‘round, skipping Remus’ usual spot, and dug into the prawn briyani even as he stuffed a samosa into his mouth, talking around it. “He was home when I got here. Probably lost another job though he didn’t say. I hope he remembers rent is due next week.” 

Sirius bristled a little, resettling his elbows on table, a fork in one hand and taking up his knife in the other, looking at little as if he meant to go into battle with them before he caught himself and set them next to his plate. When the four of them had moved into the Knightsbridge flat nearly a year ago, it'd had been like an extension of their years living together at Hogwarts, just with no essays or detentions. It’d been another game, another laugh. The last couple of months had brought the strain of adulthood with lost jobs and lost loves, proposals, and family strife. The war. 

"Who’s going to get him?" James asked, digging into first one container and then the next. He licked his thumb and grabbed a fork, finally looking up at Sirius because it really hadn’t been a question.

"I did last time," Peter said, missing the silent conversation that was happening between James and Sirius

"So what's stopping you from going again," Sirius bit out, this time ignoring James when he shook his head. 

Peter gestured with his fork, as if it explained everything, and reached again for a container of food, the chicken tikka this time. Sirius grunted out an answer. He’d known he was going anyway; it just bothered him that Peter made it sound like a chore, like a burden. It’d become like that between Peter and Remus, or rather Peter toward Remus because Remus didn’t fight, didn’t argue. Now that Peter didn’t need Remus to tutor him in charms or cheat off of in transfiguration, it seemed like Peter had no need for Remus at all. At least that was what Sirius thought, though James told him to stop being thick, believing—or wanting to believe—that nothing had changed except their beds no longer had thick velvet curtains and it was easier to have a private wank in the shower.

Another grunt and Sirius pushed his chair back, scraping it against the floor, and eased himself out through the window, up the fire escape, and onto the rooftop. He saw Remus where he stood near the ledge, looking out over the city. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jeans, his red t shirt familiar and faded nearly pink, one of James', an artifact from a Muggle concert that Sirius and James had sneaked down to Manchester to see in the summer before sixth year. In his short sleeves, Sirius could see the faded scars that lined Remus' arms shine silver in the setting sun. 

Remus turned his head slightly at the sound of Sirius' boots crunching across the gravel but said nothing. He didn’t have to, not to Sirius, who could read the hunch of his shoulders like a map. Sirius eased closer, slid his foot across the tar paper roof to edge it against Remus’ worn boot. He could see the tight line of Remus’ jaw now though not his eyes as he shaded them against the remnants of the sun.

"You're missing dinner. It's my night."

"Curry, then."

"You like my curry."

Remus gave a ghost of a smile, which was almost enough for Sirius. Sirius' rebellion from his family didn't extend to household charms when even Peter and James could manage a few basic meals that didn't involve working out the strange Muggle money as Sirius did on his nights. Remus was the gourmand amongst them, his mum having taught him to cook properly, frugally, and without magic. Sirius found it endlessly fascinating, though still feigned helplessness at even the most basic tasks when Remus offered to teach him to chop an onion or fry up an egg.

"Your curry, yes; I'm just not much up for company," Remus said, the smile gone as he looked back over the dirty rooftops. 

Sirius didn’t take it as a hint, assuming, as he often did, that Remus didn’t mean him or even James. He liked to think that he knew Remus too well for that, that their drunken fumbling over the past year when neither had wanted to be alone, gave him some sort of immunity from Remus’ moods, even at times when James would have backed down.

"What are you doing up here anyway?" Sirius asked, pretending that this hasn’t become a sort of habit, too.

"Nothing." Remus shrugged, pulling his arms up to fold them over his chest. His mouth twisted around other words, his lips twitching to the side dismissively. "Thinking."

"About?"

Remus shook his head and shoved his hand through his hair. His smile was weak and his eyes looked tired when he finally leveled them at Sirius then back out over the horizon.

"Bad day at work?"

"Yeah, but at least that won't be a problem anymore."

"They let you go?"

"My skills were incompatible with their current needs."

Sirius cursed beneath his breath. It was the second job Remus had lost this summer, the fourth this year, the seventh since they left school. Sirius knew Remus took each redundancy as a personal failing, knew he'd spend the next few weeks throwing himself at the unpaid work of the Order though people looked at him with suspicion there, too. There would be weeks of worry over money, his own strange brew of cold resentment and embarrassed gratitude when Sirius or James covered his quarter of the rent or magicked some coins into some spare jacket pocket to be found when he needed bus fare or a cup of tea. That it meant nothing to James and Sirius, either would be happy to support him completely, made it worse to Remus, and Sirius knew that too.

"My dad wants me to go back home," Remus said into the stretching silence between them, his eyes never leaving the horizon. In the heat of the day, a haze had settled over the city, giving the sky a reddish glow like an exit sign, and it was Sirius’ turn to curl his hands into fists, to twist and fidget.

"You don't want to go." Statement, not a question, but Sirius didn't breath easily until Remus shook his head. "So, you'll stay."

Remus gave a short, humorless laugh, dipping his head low. "If only it were that easy."

"Why can't it be?"

"Nothing about me is ever easy." He says it off-hand, an old joke, but his voice is tight. He looks over his shoulder to Sirius then back over the city, the river a pale brown snake to the west. "I mean, he asks every time this happens. I mean, tells me it's okay and not to worry. He's got his pension from the Ministry and sells what he can from the garden to make extra. I could have my old room back. The grand adventure done and I can just tick off time between fulls."

Remus didn’t sound angry anymore, like he had the first couple of times someone showed him the door. He just sounded tired, defeated, Sirius found that he actually missed the anger. 

"I want you to stay," Sirius said.

“Only because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t. Lily says I’m genetically predisposed to only care about myself so pity’s out completely.” That at least got another smile out of Remus and Sirius moved closer, anchoring his restless hands onto Remus’ waist. “I really want you to stay.”

"Yeah, well. Maybe then because you're likely to kill Peter if it's just you and him after James is married next month."

"Peter's leaving, too."

"Is he?" There was surprise and a flash of something indefinable in Remus' face; guilt, Sirius didn't wonder, at believing he’d been so involved in his own problems that he'd failed his friends in some way. Sirius felt a stab of irrational anger at Peter and curled his fingers tighter into Remus’ sides.

"He told James, not me. He got his own place, though James says it just a bedsit in Chalk Farm."

"I wouldn't have thought he'd go for a Muggle area."

"Close to James as he can afford, I suspect." Sirius slid his hands low over Remus’ stomach, taking a chance when before it’d been a liberal dose of Ogden’s worst that made this okay in the past. Remus didn’t pull away though and Sirius took the opportunity to press his words against the shell of Remus’ ear. “I really want you to stay, Remus.” 

Remus tilted his head back against Sirius' shoulder and closed his eyes. “You’ll get tired of me, all on our own.”

Sirius recognized that as more guilt but at the core it was something else—longing or hope, maybe both, Sirius wasn’t sure, but smiled against the skin of Remus' neck--at what wasn't a straight out refusal. He moved his hand beneath the hem of Remus’ shirt and slid it onto Remus’ flat belly, pulling him snug against Sirius. “More likely, you’ll tire of curry, or stumbling over my boots.

"I like your curry.” 

Sirius laughed quietly, dragged his nose over Remus’s skin to where his hair curled around the collar of his shirt. He could smell the sun on Remus, taste sweat and the grit from the city where he touched his tongue over sinew and muscle

"Y'great daft puppy," Remus whispered but affectionately as he relaxed into Sirius’ arms, the tension of the day mostly gone even if his problems weren’t.

"Stay with me," Sirius whispered back and held his breath until the sun sunk below the horizon, until the sounds of the city faded away to nothing, until Remus nodded and turned in his arms.


End file.
